


Underweight

by Stuffy (AlexKingOfTheDamned)



Category: All New X-Factor
Genre: Forcefeeding, M/M, Stuffing, Weight Gain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-16
Updated: 2014-11-16
Packaged: 2018-02-25 13:52:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2624159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexKingOfTheDamned/pseuds/Stuffy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remy was gone for a while and his weight dropped. Danger takes it upon herself to fix that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Underweight

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on this picture by squidbiscuit~ http://squidbiscuit.tumblr.com/post/98237076066/i-had-this-idea-that-danger-could-force-feed-some
> 
> It's also a very, very late thank-you to her for buying the entire All New X-Factor series for me.

 

Normally, Remy doesn’t like to go on missions alone. He used to, but being part of such a small, tight-knit team (even if they are dysfunctional as a VCR underwater) has made working by himself a lot less enjoyable. He misses bickering with Pietro, taking leadership from Lorna, looking after Doug, watching to see what Danger will come up with next. Working with his team is always entertaining.

 

Being on his own now is dull. Especially when he’s on his own for several weeks. He’ll request that Serval send someone else to work solo next time, he decides, as he finally approaches the building that has been his home for so long now.

 

He’s exhausted. Shacking up in South America for five weeks with no company has taken a toll on him. He takes a shower first thing, and shaves off the scraggly beard he’s grown back into a handsome stubble. He’ll decide tomorrow whether or not to get a haircut as he piles his hair into a damp, messy bun.

 

Pietro warns him on his way to the kitchen that Danger’s system has been on the fritz ever since she tried to come onto Doug.

 

“Nothing dangerous,” he insists. “She’s just been acting a little strange.”

 

Strange, Remy decides, is probably an understatement given the way the speedster’s neck and arms are striped with bruises that resemble the flexible cables she wields. He’ll just have to make sure not to cross paths with her. He grabs a carton of greek yogurt and a spoon from the fridge, something light and easy to eat before he goes to hibernate for two days. He didn’t have a very good diet down south, in fact he probably lost about five or six pounds, but if he has a really heavy meal now he’ll regret it when he wakes up nauseous with indigestion.

 

He eats the yogurt on his way down to his room, and settles down for a nice long nap. It feels good to have a real mattress beneath him again after all the makeshift beds he'd thrown together during his mission. Pillows and blankets feel softer than clouds and he falls asleep almost immediately.

 

He doesn't know how long it is before he wakes up, he just knows it hasn't been long enough. Groggily he sits up to check the time and sees what woke him up in the first place.

 

Standing in front of him, or rather, standing creepily at the end of his bed, is Danger.

 

It’s not the first time he’s woken up to her in his room. It’s gotten to be so common that it doesn’t even frighten him anymore. He yawns and arches his back to stretch it, his tee shirt slipping off one shoulder.

 

“What time is it?” he asks her, rubbing at his eyes.

 

But instead of replying she says, “You are underweight.”

 

Remy blinks blearily at her in the darkness. “Beg’n your pardon?”

 

"You're body mass has dropped more then five pounds below your average. Well outside your natural fluctuation points," she clarifies. Metal tendrils snake out of her and inch towards the bed, towards him, preparing to wrap around his arms and drag him to his feet. "It is an unhealthy drop and should be rectified for your safety."

 

“Whoa there,” he takes one of the metal tendrils in his hand to try and push it away, but even if he wasn’t half asleep it would be pointless to try and fight a robot. “It’s the middle of the night, cherie. Can’t we wait to have breakfast in the morning?”

 

The metal tendrils wrap around his wrists and upper arms and pull him from his bed. Danger could easily hold him aloft but she allows him to rest on his feet without releasing him, making it obvious that he isn't getting away any time soon.

 

"No. More calories will only be lost in the meantime. You must be replenished now."

 

Remy sighs and scrubs at his face, the tendrils giving him enough freedom of motion to do so. “I plan to sleep for a long while now,” he says, feeling a little unsteady on his feet. “If I have a full meal now It’s just gonna bite me in the backside later.”

 

Danger is quiet for a moment, seeming to process this information. She doesn't loosen her hold though.

 

"You are right. Food will be hard for you to digest now." she says. Another tendril, this one open and hollow at the end, slithers around her and hovers above him. "A high calorie protein shake should be easy enough to take."

 

He blinks at the tendril, and then back down to her. “S’pose it’s useless to ask you if you’re joking,” he sighs. “Fine, pour me a glass. Shake I can handle.”

 

The quicker she facilitates him downing a couple cups of some kind of pale nutrient sludge, the quicker he can get back to sleeping.

 

"No. That will take too much time and you will likely leave the glass unfinished," Danger replies. The solo coil comes closer until it's right in front of his lips. "This is a better way."

 

Remy scoffs and laughs a little bit. “Cherie, I’m flattered, but I’m not gonna just suck on your- ”

 

He chokes when she takes advantage of his open mouth and pushes it in. It’s cold on his tongue and he starts to struggle on principle, but the cords wrapped around him pull tighter and hold him in place as she starts to pipe a thick, cold liquid into his mouth from God only knows where.

 

It’s flavorless and chilled, thick in his throat. He gags again but she presses the cord deeper and he’d much prefer swallowing whatever paste she has to give him than the actual tendril itself. It settles heavy in his stomach, thick and weighty, and he figures it’ll stop after a few seconds. High in calories, she’d said after all.

 

But it doesn't stop. The equal of one full glass goes down his throat, cold and sticky and slimy and it doesn't stop. More comes, forcing him to swallow it down. He tries to stop it, to tell Danger that that's enough, but she only pushes the coil deeper until it's almost in his throat and the liquid just keeps coming.

 

Her system is on the fritz, he remembers, and suddenly fear grips him. What if she doesn’t know when to stop? He struggles harder, trying to speak, but he only drools down his chin as he garbles. He barely has the time to breathe through his nose between thick swallows. His stomach fills and then fills more, he can feel it expanding as he chokes and gasps and he has no choice but to keep gulping it down.

 

The waistband of his sweats start to feel a little tight and a cramp shoots through his belly. He starts to shiver, the mass of chilled liquid inside him cooling him from the inside out. And still he has to keep gulping it down, or he’ll drown. Tears spring up in his eyes as his belly rounds out, firm and tight, and she still doesn’t stop.

 

She keeps pumping the calorie heavy concoction into him, determined that by the end of this he'll have regained the weight he's lost. He needs the calories to make up for the lack of nutrition he's suffered. It's only logical to keep filling him up.

 

So more and more comes, forcing him to swallow again and again. His throat is sore from contracting around the hard edge of the tube and his stomach is sore and heavy with liquid. If he could speak he'd beg her to stop but he can't do anything but try to keep it down and not choke.

 

When her readings indicate that his weight is back up, she finally stops. He’s panting like he’s been running when she pulls the tendril out of his throat, shaking and moaning with discomfort. A heavy, queasy weight has settled in him, but he doesn’t dare throw up in her presence or she’ll only force him to swallow more.

 

“Dan- ger,” he chokes, sagging in her cords. ‘On the fritz’ was an understatement alright. She couldn’t seem to calculate calories to weight gain and give him the necessary amount he needed to gain it back. Instead, she piped over a gallon into him until his physical weight was what she remembered it to be.

 

Gently she lifts him back onto the bed and lays him down, ignoring his groans of pain. Her tendrils finally uncoil from around him and retract back into her as if they had never been there at all.

 

"Your weight is back up to within a normal healthy zone for you," she says, sounding almost pleased with herself.

 

Remy can’t respond. He’s wracked with cramps. He paws at his full, hard belly, trying to ease the ache. He’s gurgling, churning, he can barely breathe. He rolls over onto his side and folds his knees up under his stomach, shivering out of control. He gropes for his blankets, and only groans when he feels Danger’s tendrils pull the covers up over him.

 

“Go away,” he moans, massaging his full, achy belly with both hands as he crams his face into his pillow to wipe off the drool from his neck and chin.

 

"Yes. You need sleep. Good night." Danger says before turning on her heel and leaving, the door closing behind her and leaving him alone in the dark.

 

Remy rubs miserably at his belly, trying to hold on through the cramps. The whole ordeal has left him even more exhausted than before, and if he didn’t feel like he was about to lose consciousness, he would drag himself to the bathroom and try to gag up part of this dreadful, freezing concoction.

 

He doesn’t recall falling asleep. He expects a wave of nausea to hit him as soon as he opens his eyes, but he’s pleasantly surprised to wake up feeling rested and energized. He sits up and takes in the sunshine, but then he feels something in his lap.

 

Eyes widen. His stomach still hasn’t gone all the way down. There’s still an inch or two of distension, just a small bloat, but he realizes to his shock that there is a considerable amount of weight gathered along his sides and spilling over the waistband of his sweatpants. His mouth drops open.

 

He stands up and inspects himself. His tummy has gone a little round, his sides softened into love handles, even his thighs have softened. ‘On the fritz’ is nothing, he’s gained at least ten pounds overnight! Groaning, he pulls on a fresh tee shirt. He’s going to need to start a new work out regimen to get his body back in shape.

 

Heading to the kitchen, Remy’s face lights up. With every step he can feel his stomach slosh, and his belly and thighs jiggle. His cheeks are completely red by the time he returns the spoon to the sink and tosses the empty yogurt cup in the garbage.

 

Pietro comes into the kitchen, walking for once, clad only in sweat pants decorated with lightning bolts. He stops and takes in Remy's form, bent over the sink washing his spoon from the night before.

 

Grinning he sneaks up behind him and pinches his softened sides, making him jump.

 

"Is this _chub?_ Did you get chubby while you were away?" he teases.

 

Remy flinches and then sighs. “No, I did not,” he says, turning around to face the other man. His cheeks go even redder when he realizes his soft belly brushes against Pietro’ as the other man leans over him to grab the counter edge. “Danger decided last night she would pipe a gallon of pure calories into me. Woke me up to do it an’ everything. We need to fix her glitch before she decide _you_ too skinny and fills you until you pop, too.”

 

Pietro grins and presses a little closer, crowding Remy against the counter and pressing his rock hard abs into his softened, chubby belly.

 

"Well I like it. It suits you. It's pretty cute."

 

“Take a picture then, cause it ain’t staying,” Remy tries to frown and look serious, but he can’t help the lopsided smirk from showing. He wraps his arms around Pietro’s waist and groans when the other man presses loose a cramp, and he turns his head to burp into his fist.

 

"Then I'll have to make the most of it while I can." Pietro says, grinning back. "I'd offer to run us to the bedroom but I'm not sure I can lift you anymore. Guess we'll just have to walk."

 

Remy smacks Pietro’s ass playfully for that comment, but when Pietro smacks him back and he _jiggles_ he decides to leave well enough alone.

 

 


End file.
